The Blue Moon
by Vikn Argentum
Summary: Harry Potter committed suicide. Severus, one of his lovers, left Britain, too hurt and jaded by his death and the war. Draco, another lover, elected to stay and suffer silently. One the night of a blue moon, they meet up again on Harry's grave.


THE BLUE MOON

I found myself walking through the once familiar pathway to the old graveyard behind the ancient manor, my feet leading me solely from memory, leaving the rest of me to look around. The weeds were overgrown in parts, the fence broken and rusted in some new places and the pathway stones covered in deep moss, but otherwise, the graveyard looked exactly like it had a decade earlier.

I found myself kneeling by the headstone with that very familiar name, and my heart, dead as it was, stirred for the first time in years. I traced the small rivulets of blood on the grave, a cruel reminder of how we had parted ways.

"_You're finally back. I had wondered how long it would take, but I confess that I didn't think you'd be gone this long. It's been more than a decade."_

I tensed at the sound of that voice, another painful tug deep in my chest. I hadn't expected his voice to sound exactly the same, smooth, silky, and above all, emotionless. It used to drive me insane. I stood up; there was no chance I'd give him the satisfaction of seeing me kneeling before him. I turned, slowly, postponing the moment for as long as I could.

Platinum blond hair, slightly curly, falling over his forehead, partially hiding his cold grey eyes, which were boring into my own black ones. He'd grown since the last time I'd seen him, filling out nicely, no longer the lanky, thin young man I'd left. But still inhumanly beautiful. He longer looked like a replica of Lucius; he had some of the Black features, inherited from his mother.

"_You've grown"_, I said, for lack of anything else. It was a lame answers, not my usual cutting remark, but I didn't want to continue with that particular line of conversation. It had been decades, yes, but it still hurt.

"_It's been a long time since we last met",_ he remarked, _"but you've hardly answered my question."_ His silver eyes still starred into mine, making me uncomfortable. Long ago he'd perfected that blank emotionless look and I had nothing to grasp and hold as a lifeline now. I turned around to face the headstone again, grateful for the small reprieve. Ignoring his question, I found myself talking. I'd wanted to unload all this a long time ago, free myself from my hatred and sorrow, but I stubbornly kept it in; it was my punishment, my atonement. He was probably the only one alive who would understand anyways, and he deserved to be the first to hear it:

"_I loved him",_ he sucked in a breath. _"I knew you did too. And I know he cheated on both of us with each other."_ But I couldn't hate him for that, regardless of my pain. _"I hated you for that. You had part of him that I would never have. You gave him something I never could."_ I paused, but he remained silent for a while, then said: "_You had a part of him too, a part I could never hope to have, let alone understand."_

"_Not really."_ I answered. _"He would only come when he was angry. I was his release from the real world, his outlet from those emotions he couldn't reveal. It wasn't love, or even affection. It was two bodies rubbing furiously against each other, thrusting, grabbing, scratching and biting. It was angry sex, never love. It was brutal and it was painful but we enjoyed it, it was what we needed. We would moan and sigh and shout and cry out our release, but we never talked. But you know what?"_ I didn't pause to let him answer. _"I revelled in it. In the sick parody of a relationship, however twisted it was. Even though I knew he had you, and probably countless others."_

Draco remained silent, observing me, cataloguing all the lines of my face and tone of my voice. _"Professor",_ he started, and then amended, _"Severus. You know he was always free with his emotions. Too free. He lit a fire in people's hearts, fuelled it and then left it to burn, leaving ashes behind. And he didn't even notice."_ Which was why everyone loved him.

I continued, ignoring him. _"But I knew that a part of him, even if it was the angry hateful part, that part was mine. In a way, he depended on me. But I was deluding myself. He belonged to no one. He twisted the ropes, letting other men think they dominated him, letting them feel powerful, but we were mere puppets in his hands, we depended on him much more than he depended on us, if he ever did. I gave him my heart and soul, but he was too damn innocent, even in all his sins, to accept them_". I was angry now. _"But he didn't give them back either"._

"_I know."_ He had finally spoken, his tone eerily calm, but underlined with a soft spray of pain. It surprised me that I could still appreciate such subtleties. _"I hated you for that too, for having a piece of him, when I wanted it all. I deluded myself too, into thinking that he would care."_ He stopped abruptly, blowing out air forcefully, lifting his bangs form his eyes. I suddenly realised why he'd grown it, and why he no longer gelled it back, like he wore it all his life. It was another line of defence, of protection against the world, against the pain and sorrow, the hatred and regret. Just like my long lanky black hair, framing my face, and snarky hateful persona I displayed to the public.

Draco continued talking, but this time, he was frustrated. I never though I would still remember his voice so accurately. _"I never realised. How hard it was for him. Having people vying for his attention every minute, knowing he was too damaged by his childhood and the war to give them more, knowing he didn't have, and couldn't give them what they wanted. It was eating him inside. He despised himself for being weak, even though he couldn't do anything more than what he was doing about the destruction around him."_

It was my turn to say something now, but I couldn't bring myself to come up with a reply to that, so he continued. _"Sometimes, just sometimes, I looked around, and saw all those people – the ones I was fighting for, and the ones I was fighting against – and I remembered all those years together at school, all the fear, all the shame and all the hatred, the killing and part of me…part of me understands y'know, why he did it, why he left this world for good"._

I could understand it only too well. I still had the single potion I had brewed in my lab, still meticulously labelled, a name and date, sitting innocently, tempting, at my kitchen shelf back home. _"I know. I tried to leave too."_ I had, but it hadn't worked. _"I tried to leave. Not permanently, like he did, I'm much more selfish than he could ever hope to be. I was a fool when I thought it would all be over just because I left and waved goodbye. No one can forget the past. You're not allowed too. You have it face it, deal with it and go on. But I can't. I've tried, God knows how many times. But I find myself thinking of that messy black hair, of that body clenching around me, his silent screams and the haunted green eyes…no one can even hope to compare…"_

When he replied, his voice was so broken that it made me look up sharply. Usually so proud and arrogant, it jarred me deep inside, disturbed me even more than I could think possible. Malfoy's never showed emotion, and certainly not his one. He had been a constant in my life, ever since I was named godfather: his superior attitude, cocky smirks, taunting words…it broke down a structure that had been there for so long, it left me feeling empty. Just a ten word confession words: _"I loved him too, I fell just like you did."_

And I replied, with a harsh, bitter laugh, a sound so out of place from my parched throat. _"I learnt my lesson. I should have listened to Luc."_ He jerked up at the sound of his father's name. _"He told me it was a bad idea. He was right. I got burned so thoroughly it is a wonder there was anything of me left in his wake. Each day, as a wake up I just want to fall asleep, numb the pain and join him. Except he is in Heaven, and I'll most surely go to Hell. I've committed to many crimes in the service of both my masters. It's ironic. I was a survivor, always have been. The eternal survivor no longer wants to survive, but is too afraid of not surviving too die."_

We fell silent, after that, both processing and cataloguing what had been said slowly. It was overwhelming, being back here, with Draco, in front of his grave, so many years after I had left my masters and the war had finished. I could never come back, but then, there never had been a reason to stay, except my desire for an atonement that I would never have, and Him. After a few hours, when the night had already fallen, and the wind was cold, Draco spoke:

"_He loved the moon. It fascinated him. 'It always starts and finishes with the moon', he __told me when I asked why. It was a full moon the day he killed himself. I hadn't realised what he meant when he said to me that night that 'It will finish with the moon', and then it was too late. He was gone."_

It was my turn. _"Late at night, he would get up from bed, after I'd fallen asleep, he would slip out of my quarters in the dungeons and with that damn cloak, go up to the astronomy tower. He used to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees bent and stare at the sky. He was like a marble statue: beautiful, cold and unmoving, something to be admired. Sometimes he would take out a packet of cigarettes and smoke the whole pack, always gazing upwards. And I would wake in the cold bed, alone, and go up to him, but I never showed myself. We both knew that I was there, but we pretended the other didn't know we knew. I would stare at his skin, blemished b so many scars, so white in the moonlight, contrasting with his raven locks. He was beautiful."_

Again we fell silent, but this time, he interrupted it again. _"Severus, why are you're here? You have no reason to come back, no reason to stay. Why did you even bother?"_

"_It's a blue moon tonight."_ I said simply. He looked upwards in reflex, but it was covered by the clouds. _"It was not simply a full moon the night he died, did you know?"_ I couldn't bring myself to say he committed suicide. _"It was also a blue moon."_

He appeared satisfied by my answer, even if it hardly answered his question, because he nodded and looked away from me once more. _"I never realised"_, he simply commented, the mask that had fallen earlier back in place.

When the sun started to rise, I left, never looking back or saying goodbye, because Draco understood. I hadn't known why I had come back originally, but whatever the reason, I was satisfied and Draco now knew. I had atoned, or come as close to doing as I could, so there was no reason left to stay.


End file.
